


Another You

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Sam, Character Death, M/M, Season/Series 14 Spoilers, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, other world character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: Dean dies fighting Michael one last time and Sam must let him go; left without his brother and knowing that he can’t bring him back Sam goes into free fall until Castiel persuades him to go on a vacation.  While staying in a remote cabin Sam thinks he sees his brother and starts seeing him in other places.  Finally he manages to confront what he thinks is a spirit, but this is a real person – a Dean from another dimension – one where Dean and Sam have been brought up differently and one where Dean and Sam are more than brothers.  This Dean is searching for his Sammy and Sam agrees to help him…soon he becomes too fond of this alternative Dean and they fall into a relationship that might change Sam’s life forever.





	Another You

**Another You**

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=2py1dtc)

**Then**

Sam dropped to his knees; Dean lay on his side, blood pooling beneath his head. His breathing was harsh and labored and Sam knew in that moment that it was goodbye.

“Sammy.”

He pulled his brother gently into his lap; avoided looking into sightless, burned out eyes and concentrated on stroking his brother’s hair trying, desperately to think of something to say. His throat thick with salt, and eyes stinging.

“We did it Dean,” he was aware of whispering, his voice soft and measured as if he was in the presence of something holy. “He’s gone. He’s finally gone, Dean.”

“No box?” Dean’s words were choked out but there was a wide and genuine smile on his face, harsh against the paleness of his skin.

“No box Dean. Billie is going to take you,” Sam stumbled over the words unable to hold back the tears that stung bitterly at his lids. 

“The empty?”

“No. Not after what you’ve done.”

“What we’ve done, Sammy,” Dean’s voice was laced with pride. “We did this together.”

Sam moved closer and held his brother as tight as he dare. Above him the sky was a clear blue and the sun bright and warm. A beautiful morning and the start of a brand new day. A day free of Michael, free of his monsters, and free of pain. 

“Don’t be doing anything stupid, Sammy. No deals or trying to bring me back. You have to look forward now. You have to go and live your life.”

He had no words now; out of the corner of his eye he could see Cas moving a little closer. The angel’s eyes were full of tears and Sam tried to recall if he had ever seen him cry before. Jack stood behind Cas and he wasn’t even trying to hold back, huge sobs shook his body.

“Promise me, Sammy,” Dean was still talking but his voice was growing fainter and Sam swore he could see the air shimmering; he knew that Billie was close. 

“I promise, Dean.” It was a promise he had made so many times before but this time he had to keep it. The pain in his chest was so severe he thought that he might even die with it.

Dean sighed and his body went limp in Sam’s arms. Sam dropped his head to Dean’s chest and held on to him for the longest of times only letting go when he felt Cas’s soft touch on his shoulder and he allowed himself to be raised to his feet.

“He’s gone.”

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=2l8dbfd)

****

They brought Dean’s body back to the bunker. Sam insisted that he _lay in state_ on the memory foam mattress he was so proud of. People came and went kneeling beside the bed to pay their respects. Most of them left gifts; bottles of beer, _Busty Asian Beauty_ magazines, and even slices of pizza. Sam sat in the darkest corner keeping a vigil, hiding his own sorrow so he could support others through theirs.

It wasn’t like before. This time it wasn’t the same as when Dean had vanished in an explosion of black goo. Then Sam had been completely and utterly alone, now he was surrounded by people – too many if truth be known – and it was hard to know which of these scenarios were the worst. He wasn’t used to sharing his grief, and he certainly wasn’t good at it. He vanished, lurking in the gloom; a shadow of himself. His mom came on a regular basis and forced him to eat. Cas made him shower and visit the bathroom, but he knew that his personal hygiene was being neglected and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

A week after they had finally rid the world of Michael Sam left the bunker to build his brother’s funeral pyre. The only person he allowed with him was Castiel. He trusted the angel but it was more than that. Cas wasn’t given to spouting platitudes that did nothing to comfort him. Cas didn’t insist on hugging him or feeding him. He was stoic, a solid support and Sam needed him more than he needed air. The two of them worked tirelessly until the pyre stood tall and magnificent beneath the shelter of the trees. Sam stared at it for the longest of times and it finally hit him hard; his brother was gone and this time he was never coming back.

**** 

A hunter’s funeral was all he could give Dean now. He put the body in the back seat of Baby because he knew it was what Dean would have wanted. The car had always been family, and now she would witness Dean’s final journey. Mom followed in Bobby’s old truck with Jack and Cas in the passenger seat. No one else came because no one else was invited. Sam wanted to say goodbye to his brother in his own way. Dean wouldn’t have wanted fuss, he wouldn’t have wanted words from people who were almost strangers to him. Once, before Amara and _the bomb_ , Dean had told Sam he wanted to be buried in the cemetery in Lawrence near to mom, however as mom was alive now it seemed foolish and anyway Sam didn’t want Dean coming back. He wanted his brother to have peace so it was best if there was no body, and no unfinished business.

They laid the body atop of the pyre, along with the photographs Dean always kept close, the amulet which had surfaced again when Chuck had _revealed_ himself as God, and a large Cherry pie. Oddly enough it had been that one final object that had made Sam break down. He had to wipe away his tears as he laid the pie on top of his brother’s body.

“Are you going to say anything?” Cas stood like a statue next to him and there was little or no emotion on his face. Sam swallowed and shook his head _‘No’_. If he attempted to speak now he wouldn’t be able to. He was full to the brim with sorrow and loss. What good would words do to lessen that? Everyone here knew Dean, everyone here knew what he had done for them, and for the world. A few paltry words from Sam wouldn’t change things. Cas stared at him for the longest of moments and then nodded solemnly. “You need to do what is best, Sam.”

And so, with a whispered, ‘ _goodbye_ ’ Sam said farewell to his brother. There was a heart-breaking finality to it, and this time there was no coming back. He stepped forward and dropped a chaste kiss on his brother’s forehead before he flicked open Dean’s favorite lighter and the pyre turned orange.

It was over.

****

**Now**

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=2ppldgh)

Sam poured himself a coffee and sat down at the table. Glancing at his watch he noted that it was only 3am - he’d possibly had about three hours sleep, but he was wide awake and the coffee, strong and black, wasn’t going to make that any better or any worse. 

“You are up early.” Castiel appeared as if by magic beside him. “Again.”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a weary smile as he rubbed his hand through his hair and felt acutely aware of how greasy and unkempt it was. He tried to remember when he last showered, and he certainly hadn’t shaved for a while however he was certain that Cas wouldn’t question his hygiene. “I’m not really sleeping that well.”

“I am certain that drinking black coffee will not help.” 

“Yeah – thanks mom!”

“You do not look well Sam. I am concerned.”

“I’m ok, Cas.”

“It is clear to me you are not, and your mother tells me you are not eating.”

“Cas. . . . Waves of weariness washed over him and he dropped his head into his hands. He could feel the prickle of a month’s worth of beard, and his eyes were sore and gritty. He wasn’t sure if there had been a day when he hadn’t cried himself into a fitful sleep and he certainly couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a full meal.

“Dean would not want this for you.” 

“I know,” he replied not having the energy to feel angry. He recognized the truth when he heard it. It was just such a painful truth, and he wasn’t certain he could face it head on right now.

“Perhaps you should take a break. You could leave the bunker for a while. Your mother and Jack will help with the other hunters. I am perfectly capable of monitoring them also.”

“Where would I go, Cas? All I have left in life is here.”

“You are too close to him here, Sam. You need time to mourn in your own way, but perhaps you might mourn less if you were to go far away - a vacation so to speak.”

Sam took a swallow of the coffee and let it burn his throat. Deep down he knew that Castiel was right, yet he could still remember what had happened last time Dean had ‘died’. He could still remember driving aimlessly. He could recall hitting Riot, and all the things that came after. He was certain that he’d ruined Amelia’s life, and he was well aware of how angry Dean had been on his return.

“He is not coming back this time, Sam.” So apparently Castiel could read minds now. “There is no need for guilt.”

“Yeah, I know that.” And there, there was his acceptance, his capitulation. “I know.”

“You will do as I ask then?”

“Yeah, I’ll do as you ask.”

****

He hadn’t ever been a beach person. Sam guessed it was something to do with his _messed up childhood_ and the fact that they’d never really done vacations. Even when he was a student at Stanford he didn’t join the rest of his friends for beach barbeques, or lazy days just swimming, or _catching some rays_. Even Jess hadn’t been able to persuade him. He had always been happy enough to let her go alone with his blessing. 

He ended up in a small but cosy cabin in the middle of some remote forest which he’d never really heard of because the coast had been discounted as a _vacation spot_. There was a nature reserve nearby with a fishing lake and, because it was out of season, there were very few people around which suited Sam just fine.

The cabin was clean and warm, with a log fire in the tiny living room and a squashy couch which was unbelievably comfortable. The place was so remote that an internet signal was nigh on impossible, but he had a small DVD player and a working TV plus plenty of books to read – although Cas had refused to let him take anything related to hunting, or the lore. He’d brought a couple of weeks’ worth of food and drink with him as well as a few six packs, and a copious amount of coffee. He was certain that he wouldn’t be able to relax as it had been years since he’d taken any sort of break from hunting. It had become unnatural to do anything else but hunt.

Sitting on the couch staring out at the dense woodland that surrounded him he found himself reminiscing about the last time he’d _enjoyed_ a so-called vacation with Dean. They’d taken a break after he’d found Dean, and used the demon cure on him. He remembered sitting on an uncomfortable chair drinking warm beer while watching his brother closely. He hadn’t really felt like celebrating then either. Dean still had the mark, and there was a fucking uphill climb ahead of them (when was there not?). Dean wasn’t relaxing either, and had insisted they take the case involving werewolves and Kate – the girl they’d let go. It had been exhilarating hunting with his brother again, and any thoughts of a break had gone completely out of their heads.

There was nothing to distract him now; no brother twitching restlessly by his side, no stupid conversations or jokey comments, and no recollections of better days. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and blinked away tears. He missed Dean so much, and he felt as if he was missing a limb. There was no one in the entire universe who understood him like his elder brother; not his mom, or Cas, or any other person he’d had a connection with. He let the tears come then and buried his head in his hands. He wasn’t sure if he could go on without his brother and he was almost certain that he didn’t want to.

****

It was late and the fire in the hearth was dying down to flickering red embers. Sam sat on the couch trying to read but the almost cloying silence made it difficult for him to concentrate. He kept dozing off and he wondered if he should go and make use of the perfectly comfortable bed in the other room. He’d taken his watch off at some point and he couldn’t remember where he’d put it so he had no conception of what time it was. He yawned and stared off into the darkness, head drooping again, eyes heavy.

Sam’s head snapped up and his eyes flew open as there was a loud crack somewhere in the gloom. The room itself was bright enough, what with the reading lamp and the red glow of the fire but the sound had come from outside and he wondered what had caused it - an animal perhaps, or something else. He fumbled for his flashlight on the coffee table and headed out to look.

As he opened the door the chill night air flooded in. He wasn’t afraid; he’d salted every door and every window and had drawn protection sigils on the outer walls of the cabin. Standing behind the salt line he turned the flashlight on and, suddenly, the whole area was illuminated in florescent orange. Sam let the light play across the trees and bushes and squinted into the brightness trying to see exactly what had made the noise.

There was a figure. It appeared dark against the light, and moved slowly and leisurely, as if it had all the time in the world. For a moment Sam couldn’t make out if it was even human but as it moved closer he caught a flash of grey plaid and faded denim. The figure paused for a moment looking around and then it turned so that Sam could see its face clearly.

Dean. 

****

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=zybp1u)

Sam dropped the flashlight with a crash and it flickered before going out and plunging him into sudden darkness. He could barely breathe, and his chest felt so tight he thought he might pass out. He fumbled around on the floor for a moment until his fingers made connection with the rubber flashlight. A few messy attempts and it was on again as he swung it wildly up to the tree line, his eyes searching for . . . well he wasn’t even sure what for.

There was nothing. 

The copse of trees was dense, but empty. There was no sign that anyone had even been there at all. He stepped carefully over the salt and stared down at the muddy ground. There were no footprints, no broken twigs or squashed leaves. Swallowing down bile he staggered back into the cabin and dropped heavily to the floor. There were tears drying cold on his cheeks, and he wanted nothing more than to leap into the car and drive away from here.

It couldn’t be Dean. Sam had given his brother a hunter’s funeral. He’d burned everything that Dean might be attached to and he’d consulted ‘new’ Bobby about protecting the fucking car. Dean didn’t have any unfinished business, and Billie had promised him Dean would be in heaven so he wouldn’t come back as a spirit. Sam had reassured her that there would be no deals, so it couldn’t be Dean.

He was clearly going mad. The loss of his brother had made him crazy, that was the upshot of it, and if he made peace with himself then it would all be fine. He buried his head in his hands again and took large gulps of air. In–out. In-out, until he felt almost light-headed. Once he’d taken control of himself again he went into the bathroom and splashed cold water over his face and then it was back to the kitchen where he brewed the largest pot of coffee he could manage. Any thoughts of sleep had long gone out of the window.

****

Perhaps he’d been isolating himself for too long. There was a small town not far from the cabin and, after a sleepless night, he decided that a trip there might be in order. He went for a run listening to music through his headphones, keeping his mind thankfully blank. Later he ate a breakfast of fruit and cereal and he even shaved. Looking in the mirror didn’t give him much pleasure because all he saw was a pale, too thin, face. He looked older than his years; eyes shadowed, cheekbones sharp.

He parked the impala on the – jokingly called – main thoroughfare as the town didn’t offer much in the way of _entertainment_. There was a general store which appeared to sell everything, a bar and grill, a bank and a doctor’s office. Sam headed for the store making the rash decision to buy himself some sweet things and maybe even a bottle of whiskey to help him sleep. He got out of the car and as he bent to lock it he saw something move close to him out of the corner of his eye. Hyper aware he whirled around to see Dean heading into the bar. For a moment he was frozen there his head whirling. Then he shoved the car keys into his pocket and set off on a run – almost flattened by a passing truck. Sam shot through the doors of the bar as they slammed shut, and the noise echoed through the empty room. A woman in her forties popped her head up from behind the bar and frowned.

“What the hell?”

He looked around him and realized that there wasn’t a single soul in the place but him. 

“We’re not serving till 12,” the woman said and smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes and her left hand was beneath the bar no doubt holding some sort of weapon. “Sorry.”

“I-I was looking for a guy.”

“Aren’t we all sugar?” Her demeanor relaxed

“He came in here. Tall, short cropped hair. He was wearing a leather jacket.”

“Not seen anyone this morning but you.” The woman shook her head. “You look as pale as death boy. Open or not let me get you a whiskey.”

Sam collapsed onto the barstool and took the glass she offered in a shaking hand. His head was hurting, his throat ached, and he wished he was anywhere but here. 

He really remembered very little about his _episodes_ after Cas had broken his wall. The odd snippet he’d gleaned from Dean had told him nothing, but in the foggy recesses of his mind he could recall Lucifer’s smug face, and Sam firing his gun at nothing. Now he was convinced it was happening again. His brother’s death had destroyed his mind, and he was back to hallucinations and episodes of madness.

“Son . . . ?” The woman behind the bar was frowning now. “You aren’t from around here, are you? You running away from some sort of trouble?”

“No.” Sam wiped an angry hand across his face and it came away wet. “No trouble…. I-I … my brother, H-he . . . he’s gone.”

“I see,” she said and poured him another whiskey which he gulped it down gratefully. There was nothing he could say that would make any sense to her, and he stared mindlessly at the bar in front of him, cracks and lines showing its history. “Grief can do that to a person.”

Her kindness almost broke him but he insisted on giving her the money for his whiskey and, in return, she gave him her business card and a coupon for a free meal. He thanked her but he was certain that he wouldn’t be staying around long enough to use it.

****

He was shoving clothing into his duffle when there was a knock on the cabin door, he paused and the hairs on his neck prickled. In all of his life as a hunter he’d known unease, he’d known fear and he’d experienced real terror but now, now he had no conception of what he was feeling. He fumbled in the duffle for his gun and made sure his knife was in its familiar place tucked in his belt. The salt line still held firm, and none of the sigils were glowing. Whatever was outside wasn’t – couldn’t - be supernatural but he still sensed danger. He took in a deep breath. The door rapped again and he almost leapt out of his skin mumbling under his breath telling himself that he should man up, and that he should know better. Heart thundering he stepped up to the door, put the gun to the wood and opened it as slowly as he was able.

Everything was still for a moment. The sounds from the forest outside his door seemed muted, and even the birds were silent. All he could hear was his own labored breathing as his finger trembled on the trigger of the gun.

“Sammy?”

Dean stood in the doorway. He looked vibrant and alive, his face ruddy and full of color. There was no fritzing in and out of vision, no cold air, and no flickering lights. Sam could smell the musky scent of Old Spice and he was certain the person who was posing as his brother was a real, living thing.

“Sam?” The person’s voice shook recognizably. “I can’t believe it! You . . . . Shit, I thought you were fucking dead.”

Sam’s instincts kicked in then, and he moved fast grabbing the _imposter_ by the shoulders and slamming him hard against the half open door. The knife was in his hand and against the fleshy skin of _‘Dean’s’_ throat in an instant, and he ground his teeth hard to stop from just slashing it open.

“Who the hell are you? And why are you pretending to be my brother? What the fuck do you expect to gain from this?” The knife shook and cut into flesh. Blood welled up and trickled down _‘Dean’s’_ neck and he hissed through his teeth.

“Not quite the welcome I was expecting, Sammy,” his voice was low, gentle as if he were trying to calm a wild animal. “I’ve been looking for you since you vanished into that fucking rift. You’ve been missing for seven fucking months, and . . . .” Green eyes met his, damp with unshed tears. “I thought I lost you, Sammy. I thought you were fucking dead.”

The knife dropped to the floor with an alarming clatter and he reeled back. He’d already disregarded the gun and now he was totally unarmed and at this doppelganger’s mercy but he didn’t care. This wasn’t his brother. As much as he wanted it to be, this wasn’t Dean. His emotions were so close to the surface that they hurt far more than his certain death ever could.

****

It was the most peaceful Mexican stand-off he had ever had. Sam sat on the soft couch with his hands dangling between his knees and his head down. _‘Dean’_ sat opposite him staring, eyes wide as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“I know you don’t believe me,” that voice so familiar, and so hideously painful made Sam wince. “But I am Dean Winchester.”

“Dean’s dead,” his voice sounded alien to his own ears. “He died.”

“I hear you, but look at me Sam.” The man who claimed to be Dean leaned forward and grabbed his chin none too gently. “Look at me!”

And Sam looked. He saw familiar red blond hair, stubble, and the cleft chin that they both shared. Shoulders that were broad beneath grey plaid, and big callused hands that had spent years handling weapons and car engines, but could be so gentle when tending to wounds or comforting victims.

“I don’t understand.” Sam was broken and he should be killing this guy rather than making conversation with him.

“Yeah, well that makes two of us. You look like Sammy, but you aren’t my brother any more than I’m yours.”

“I’m Sam Winchester,” he replied but didn’t really know why he was justifying himself.

“I don’t doubt it, but you aren’t _my_ Sam Winchester.”

“What?”

“I thought you were,” and _‘Dean’_ sounded as disappointed as Sam felt. “But I know now, that you aren’t.”

Sam buried his head in his hands and took a deep breath. Why wasn’t he killing this doppelganger? What was stopping him?

“Just over a year ago something weird happened,” ‘Dean was still talking. “This weird rift appeared just outside of Lebanon Kansas. We – Sam and me – we didn’t know what had caused it, but we knew it wasn’t right. We asked around and consulted our experts in the field so to speak, captured a few rogue demons and an angel or two, but no real answers were forthcoming.”

Sam lifted his head, there was a tingling in his belly and his head hurt. He thought of the Apocalypse world that they’d found when _their_ rift had appeared. He remembered the hideous monster world they’d found themselves in when they were searching for mom. It made sense that they weren’t the only two worlds that existed. It made perfect sense that there was likely to be more, but now he had to accept the fact that there might be several universes – hundreds maybe – with different versions of the Winchester brothers. 

“Tell me more about you. Tell me more about you and your brother.”

_‘Dean’_ frowned as he leaned in so that he was closer to Sam. Sam felt as if he were being examined, and he had come up wanting somehow. He wished to God he had some whiskey on hand, and he licked his dry lips wondering if he really, truly wanted to know. Dean grimaced and the corners of his eyes wrinkled in a way that Sam found frighteningly familiar. 

“What do you need to know? I’m not your brother, and you’re not mine. I need to find that fucking rift so I can go back. I need to find ‘my’ Sam.”

“The rift here is closed. We had no choice. We had to close it to keep Lucifer and Michael from coming through, not that it worked as they found a way to come through anyhow.” Sam swallowed as the pain in his throat almost choked him. Being so close to Dean – even if this wasn’t _his_ Dean was too agonizing for him. He was finding speech difficult, the tears already stinging his lashes.

“Then I guess we are gonna have to find a way to open it again. I-I really thought that this time . . . ,” Dean trailed off and looked close to tears himself, and Sam had to sit on his hands to stop from reaching out.

“How long have you been searching?”

“Six months. I’ve seen places you wouldn’t want to visit, even in your worst nightmares. I’ve fought monsters and demons, and things that I can’t even . . . but I’ve never even got near to finding Sam. Not until now.” 

“How did Sam get lost in the rift in the first place?”

“He’s a real geek boy,” Dean said and huffed. “He can’t leave anything alone. He spends hours and hours researching even the smallest of things. Especially any anomaly that he’s never seen before. Guess it’s the years he spent at college - I’ve never been prouder than when he got his degree.”

“He went to college? He stayed there?” Sam ran a hand through his hair. Just how different were the Winchester’s from this alternative world.

“Yeah. I went with him, and we took a break from the hunting life for a while. Things had been quiet for some time and hey, it wasn’t our job to save everyone.”

Sam blinked and this time the tears came unbidden. It was clear that these _‘Winchester’s’_ had had a different life. Sam tried to imagine a life where he could have stayed at Stanford. A life where Dean had come to college with him, where they both could have been happy and lived like _normal_ people for a while.

“That didn’t happen here I’m guessing?”

“No, it didn’t. Dean never came with me to college. He stayed hunting with my dad, and he only came to get me when my dad went missing.”

“Your dad was alive?”

“Back then yeah, he died a few years later. He sacrificed himself so that Dean didn’t have to die.”

“But you said Dean was dead.

“He died a short time ago. We finally got rid of the archangel that was possessing him, but it meant h-he . . . ,” Sam choked on the words and wiped angrily at his eyes. “He’s at peace now, and I have to live with that.”

“He was all you had?”

“Besides my mom he was the only family I had left, yeah.”

“Our mom and dad died when Sam was just a baby. They were hunting a vampire nest and things went wrong. I was only four years old and social services wanted to separate us but in the end our uncle took us in. Well, he wasn’t actually our uncle but close enough.”

“Was his name Bobby?” Sam wondered if it were possible to take much more pain.

“Yeah – Bobby, He’s stayed back home in my world in case Sam . . . well in case Sam finds his way back,” he said and grinned, his familiar green eyes sparked fire. “You have a Bobby too?”

“We did, but he died.”

“Fighting monsters?”

“Yeah, fighting monsters.”

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=2pt2u5i)

****

**Then**

And so Sam listened to the story of the Winchesters from Lebanon in Kansas. He listened to Dean as he told him about orphaned sons of two hardened hunters, who were adopted by their kindly uncle Bobby and taught to follow in their parents footsteps. These Winchesters had very distinct roles in life. Dean was the _real_ hunter, the brawn if you will. He learned to fight, to shoot guns, to use a knife and a machete. Bobby gave him his first car – a 1970’s Cadillac – and its trunk was always filled with the tools of his trade – not just weapons, but charms and amulets, and books full of notes and lore. Sam was the brains of the outfit; a born researcher who could read before he could walk. He kept huge tomes in Bobby’s library, and he wrote copious journals on every single supernatural being they encountered. If Dean came home with tales of a monster Sam had never before encountered then his little brother would spend hours on his laptop or hunched over his papers. Sometimes he would find out what these creatures were, other times he would treat them as a whole new species, and make up names for them. The two brothers laughing at the stupid things Dean would come up with just to amuse Sam.

Despite losing their parents at a young age, life had been pretty kind to these Winchesters. This Sam was allowed to go away to university and study, he had graduated with honors and his brother had been with him every step of the way – the reason all of this had been possible was as clear as crystal. These Winchester brothers fought monsters and ghosts, they encountered angels and demons too, but in this universe there was no Lucifer and therefore no Yellow eyes. Sam had never been _special_ or chosen to lead an army. It had never been all about him. There was no Cold Oak. No Dean selling his soul and as a result going to hell. No Ruby, or demon blood addiction, and all the pain that had come after.

****

**Now**

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=16apr44)

Despite everything Sam heard he knew one thing, these Winchester brothers were as dependent on each other as he and his Dean had ever been. While he listened as Dean spoke he’d seen the love and desperation in the other man’s eyes. He recognized the fierce protectiveness that he’d seen in his own brother’s expression often enough. Dean was determined to get his Sam back, and he was going to do everything in his power to accomplish that even if it meant tampering with the universe (or universes in this case).

“So your Sam went into the rift because he was curious?” Sam leaned back and wiped his eyes. He felt exhausted as if he’d run a marathon, and one look at Dean told him that the other man felt the same.

“I guess. I told him not to,” Dean huffed again. “I told him over and over again, but he was a stubborn bastard. He was fascinated by it and no amount of just looking at it was gonna be enough for him.” Dean rubbed his hand across his face – a familiar gesture – and shook his head. “It happened so fast, y’know? One minute he was just standing by the fucking thing taking his damn notes, and the next . . . he’d just gone. I wanted to leap right in after him, but Bobby stopped me. He said I had to be organized cos who knew what was on the other side. I had no conception that there were so many different universes.”

“How many have you _visited_?”

“Fifteen, or more. I’ve lost count. Sometimes I can see right away that he isn’t there, but other times I have to stay and find out for sure. What really fucking gets to me, is that he might already be dead. He could have been killed by one of those things I’ve seen, or lost somewhere in another place I haven’t been to yet.”

Sam shook his head unable to think of one thing to say. He got to his feet for a moment and stretched out, bones cracking. 

“Do you want some . . . I don’t know . . . breakfast, or something?”

Dean smiled then, genuine and warm. “Breakfast sounds awesome.”

****

“How long have you been here?” Sam nibbled at the toast he’d made, surprised his appetite had returned.

“Two or three weeks. I guess when I found this place I was relieved. It seemed so like our own world. I wasn’t even sure I hadn’t gone back there, but there are a few differences. They are subtle, but they are there.”

“I’m not sure I want to know.” And it felt oddly good to be talking to Dean again, falling into the easy banter and relaxing in the other man’s company.

“Nothing’ too spooky. I had a sort of weird feeling that Sammy was here. It was a sense of his presence, but I guess that was you.”

“What happened to the rift you came through?”

“That’s the oddest thing, it just closed. It’s never done that before. I guess it must be something to do with what happened here. I-I need it open again. I need to find Sam.”

“I get that.” He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject. “However the spell we used here was complicated. We needed a lot of ingredients, and some I just don’t have any more or a way to get them.”

Dean’s face fell and he got to his feet suddenly, his plate smashing to the floor.

“Are you fucking telling me I’m trapped here? Are you saying I can’t leave here? That I can’t get to Sam?”

“I’m telling you . . . I don’t know.” Sam shook his head. “I’m gonna have to consider this, but I do think that maybe I should take you back to the bunker - to my home.”

“Another Dean? How do you think people will react to that?”

“It won’t be the first doppelganger they’ve seen, or the last I’m guessing.”

“Shall we go home then Sammy?”

And with those few words Sam’s frozen heart began to beat harder again and he managed his first real smile in months.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

****

The Impala roared down the highway sleek and smooth as the scenery flashed by; trees and fields giving way to houses and store fronts. Sam kept his hands tight on the wheel and his eyes glued to the road.

“This is your brother’s car?” There was a reverence in Dean’s voice that he’d heard often when his brother talked about Baby. “It’s fucking awesome.”

Sam felt an odd stab of pride. He leaned forward and pushed in one of his brother’s tapes, loud rock music pounded through the car’s interior and he tapped his fingers against the leather. It seemed strange to be driving the car when Dean was in it with him because he wasn’t often allowed to drive Baby when Dean was around.

“Yeah, it was my dad’s – he gave it to Dean when he turned eighteen.”

“The car Bobby gave me was my dad’s too but it wasn’t as cool as this one.” Dean ran his hand over the car’s cold metal and stared out of the window, head bobbing along to the throbbing music. “And what a fucking great taste in music,” he said and grinned, “I guess we’re a lot alike, your brother and I.”

Sam didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that statement. This man beside him was so familiar and yet he was a stranger. They didn’t have any real shared history. This Dean hadn’t died for him, this Dean hadn’t sold his soul, or taken the Mark of Cain. Perhaps on the surface they were similar, but deep down inside they were very, very different.

“Am I like your Sam?” He couldn’t help but ask, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know.

“Yeah, a little. You have the same stupid hair, though he ties his back like a girl,” Dean chuckled fondly. “He has to wear glasses sometimes cos his eyes get tired from all that reading.” There was the dent of a frown between Dean’s brows now and, out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see that the older man was watching him. “He doesn’t look as sad as you,” his voice was low. “Sam, you look so fucking miserable.”

Sam had no words really to respond. His brother was gone. His reason for living was gone, and try as he might, he couldn’t forget that. Now there was this _other_ Dean sitting beside him and it hurt, in fact it was fucking torture. It was the worse agony he had ever experienced, and it felt like it was never going to end.

****

He wasn’t sure what to expect when he reached the bunker but he should have known really, given the way they lived. He brought Dean into the kitchen through the garage wanting to keep their entry low key, however this was almost immediately trumped by his mom entering to make her midday coffee. One smashed coffee cup and a lot of screaming later and Dean was in the library on a chair with both Mary and Castiel leaning over him.

“You’ve tested him, Sam?” Cas sounded pissed and angry but he couldn’t stop staring. For his part Dean was silent and somewhat stoic, his eyes front, and back stiff like he was sitting to attention.

Sam shook his head and he realized how stupid he had been. He’d taken Dean at his word because he looked so much like his brother, that he’d had no problem trusting him. In fact if truth be known, he still trusted him and he was certain – well 99% certain – that this Dean was exactly who he said he was. He still had to watch while Dean endured holy water being thrown in his face, had his arm cut with a silver knife, and salt rubbed into his skin. After he passed all of their tests with flying colours he grinned ruefully at Sam.

“I could use some coffee.”

****

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=zybp1u)

“My mom died when I was four.” Dean was staring at Mary intently. “I barely remember her, but I’ve got pictures and – shit – you are so like her it should be weird but . . . .” He glanced quickly at Sam and gave him a brief grin. “I’m kinda getting used to it now.”

“Yes.” Mary sipped her coffee and smiled sadly, her eyes were haunted and Sam had seen that look enough to know she was hurting. “You do get used to it, but it takes time.”

“There are angels in your world?” Castiel seemed the least affected. At his suggestion they had kept Dean out of sight of the others who now lived in the bunker – including Jack. It seemed a sensible thing to do for now and Sam wasn’t ready to deal with the consequences if Dean was _spotted_. Most of the hunters here were young and inexperienced, and they might think he was a spirit or – worse still – Michael returned from the dead.

“Yeah, they are junk-less dicks,” Dean said and wrinkled his nose, he sounded so like Sam’s Dean that Sam didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Indeed.” Cas was unfazed by the description. “But they are _minor players_ is how you put it?”

“We see the occasional angel usually visiting Earth to help one of their ‘flock’. Cupids are pretty common, and not harmful at all.”

“And demons?” Mary shuddered.

“There are demons. They possess people, and make crossroad deals but they aren’t much of a problem.” He shrugged. “Not like you have here, by the sounds of it.”

Mary looked down at the table and Sam could read her mind. He knew she was thinking of yellow eyes, and how their whole lives had been shaped by the deal she had made with him. Sam put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. He couldn’t let her keep feeling so fucking remorseful. He knew, only too well, how heavy the weight of guilt could be.

“But your world is very like this one? It is not like the Apocalypse world or the _bad place?”_

“It’s pretty damn close to this one, when I got here I thought I was home but I started noticing subtle differences. It was nothing major just different stores and we don’t have that Trump guy as president, things like that.”

“No Trump? Sounds like a great world.” Sam couldn’t hold back a small smile at Dean’s expression.

“It’s a great world, but it just isn’t the same without my brother. I have to find him, Sam. You, more than anyone, know that.” 

“But the rift here is closed and it took a very powerful spell to open it last time, so now it would be almost impossible,” Castiel replied and shook his head. “We have no way of obtaining all of the ingredients that we used last time. There are no archangels left now. They are all dead.”

“Then you’ll have to find something else.” Dean got to his feet. “I need to find my brother.”

“You don’t even know if your brother is alive or dead,” Castiel’s voice didn’t waver. “You have no conception of where he even is.”

“You think I don’t know that? I’ve hunted high and low for him for months now. Months! There’s no sign, but he’s my brother and I want him back.”

“Even if you find him how are you going to find your way back home? As you have so eloquently told us there are many rifts, and many universes. There may be hundreds, thousands even, so how will you find your way back to yours?”

Dean deflated instantly, he slumped down and buried his head in his hands and it was clear that he hadn’t even considered that one fact. A typical Winchester move. Their all-consuming co-dependency meant that one brother only ever thought of the other and damn the fucking consequences.

“It doesn’t matter,” his voice was low but resigned. “All that matters is finding him. He’s out there and he’s on his own. He isn’t . . . he isn’t . . . .” He glanced across at Sam. “He isn’t like you. He’s the brains, and sure he can fight and he can defend himself, but he isn’t a real tough hunter. He needs me.”

Sam felt heavy with tiredness all of a sudden. It felt as if he hadn’t slept in decades and it had been days since he’d even really rested. “We are all tired and on edge. I realize this has been a massive shock to us all, but we need to regroup and think about how we are going to handle this. I, for one, need some sleep.”

Mary nodded her agreement and Castiel inclined his head gone in an instant flick of his wings. Dean lifted his head to look at Sam.

“Thanks,” was all he said.

****

It felt right somehow to take this Dean to his Dean’s room. It had been cleaned up a little since Dean had _laid in state_ and Sam had burned most of Dean’s personal effects just to be safe, but he had kept his brother’s classic albums and even fastened a small TV to the wall as some sort of tribute to Dean’s viewing habits.

“Here.” He opened the door and Dean followed him through. “This was his room and you are welcome to stay here as long as you need.” He gestured to the bed, “He has . . . . He had a memory foam mattress. He was pretty proud of that.”

“He slept here alone?” There was an odd look in Dean’s eyes and Sam couldn’t quite make it out. 

“Yeah, of course.” And why wouldn’t he? Perhaps this Dean was different. Perhaps this Dean had a girlfriend he brought home, and perhaps his Sam had some sort of Jess equivalent, or the two of them hooked up with other hunters – people who understood the life.

“No one . . . um . . . sleeps here with him?” And there was that look again, Dean’s high boned cheeks suddenly burning red.

Sam felt something stir in his belly as goose-bumps prickled hot and sharp along his neck and spine and comprehension began to dawn slowly but surely.

Dean sat on the bed now but he refused to meet Sam’s eyes. “I-I - we love each other, okay? We always had each other’s backs and, when our parents died, I took care of him. Apart from Bobby we were all we had.”

Sam didn’t speak. He didn’t quite know how he felt. Perhaps he should be feeling disgust or maybe horror, but those were the furthest emotions from his mind right then. He had always loved Dean more than anyone else, more than Amelia, and maybe even more than Jessica. He’d tried to break from him. He’d tried to end their lifelong dependency, but he had always failed. They had never taken that final physical step but perhaps they should have, and then maybe Sam would have something more powerful to remember Dean by.

****

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=2ppldgh)

Needless to say despite his exhaustion Sam’s sleep was fitful and disturbed, and for the first time in a long time he found himself dreaming of Dean. It was an odd, disquieting dream. They were sitting together by an unknown lake, both of them gazing out onto the horizon. Dean’s hand was clasped tightly in his own and he turned to see bright green eyes staring at him expectantly. Sam leaned in then and pressed his lips hard against Dean’s own as his brother’s arms went around him and they rolled backwards, damp grass beneath Sam’s shirt and warm hands snaking under the cloth caressing his skin in a manner that was almost reverential. 

Sam woke with a start. His mouth was dry and he had a hard-on that was almost painful. He lay still for a moment breathing deeply to calm himself, his heart steadying in his chest. When he felt it safe to move he got out of bed and sat on top of the covers. His hand snaked into his own pajama pants and he tightened his fingers around his erection biting back a moan of pleasure as his body responded. It had been a long time – too long – since he’d been touched by anyone’s hand, even his own, and he arched up, pleasure thrumming through his veins like liquid fire.

He closed his eyes and his brother’s face danced before him smirking in that familiar way of his, and there was no mistaking the lust that colored his expression. He came suddenly and it took his breath away, his head spinning as he lay back on the bed again, mouth open, and cock pumping. When the desire seeped away he was left with a sticky palm and an almost pleasurable guilt.

****

Breakfast was silent and more than a little awkward. Mary had made eggs and bacon on the griddle in the kitchen, and Dean was already there at the table with a pot of coffee in one hand and a plate of something greasy in the other. He looked up when Sam entered and gave him a wry smile. Sam tried not to notice the flash of disappointment in Dean’s eyes and he knew that the other man had been hoping that this was all a dream.

Sam made himself some toast and sat down opposite Dean. From the outside it would have looked like a typical morning in the bunker; the brothers eating together, their mom joining them to help research but in reality it was so different. Their meal was oppressively silent and no one seemed to know what to do or say. Deep down Sam knew they were playing a dangerous game because anything involving trying to open the portal again was going to let loose a whole bucket full of worms, let alone a can. However, he was driven by a deep seated need to help ‘this’ Dean. He wanted to attempt to reunite him with the brother he loved. He knew if it was him in Dean’s position he would feel exactly the same. He would have done anything to find his brother, even when not knowing for sure if he were dead or alive.

The guilt of his year with Amelia still loomed large even though Dean had forgiven him years ago. He’d thought his brother was dead, and he’d had no-one to ground him or to keep him sane. The Sam that existed then was pretty damaged, and he would never want to go back to that part of his life. Now he was aware of being more broken than ever, and it was hard to function without Dean by his side; without his big brother snarking at him, making jokes at his expense and keeping him rational. The Dean that had come through the portal into his world wasn’t his brother but he was so like him that it was difficult sometimes to remember that it wasn’t his Dean in the bunker. It wasn’t his Dean who was drinking coffee and stuffing his mouth with bacon. This Dean had another Sam to love, to keep grounded, to have by his side and – even though it shouldn’t – it hurt.

****

It got a little easier to talk when they were left alone without his mom nearby, and it was certainly easier to discuss things without Castiel hanging over their shoulders.

“I’m gonna help you open a portal.” Sam leaned forward in time to see hope dawn in those familiar green eyes. “So you can get to _your Sam_ ”

“Thank you, really thank you. I have the feeling that it isn’t gonna go down too well with the rest of your group though.”

“It won’t, but if you let me try and persuade them they can be of help to you – especially Castiel. I know how you’re feeling right now because I’ve been there.” He swallowed down a lump in his throat wishing that his Dean was just missing, wishing that there was some hope he’d see him again. He wasn’t used to the finality of death because they’d cheated it so many damn times. Perhaps he’d thought it was his right, having saved the world so much, but his brother was gone and at peace. Somehow he had to accept it, and try to move on and yet . . . he stared across the table at the man before him and took a deep breath. Here was _Dean_ living and breathing, and it was getting harder and harder to disconnect. 

“I’m guessing you didn’t have many good experiences in regards to the portal.”

“We had some. We rescued a bunch of people from the Apocalypse world, but we succeeded in bringing Lucifer and Michael back here too. That put our world in danger, and if it wasn’t for Dean the whole thing could have been destroyed.”

“Wow. I still can’t get my head around there being a Satan in this world, or archangels either. I thought monsters were a big enough threat. It makes our demons look like minor irritations.”

“Your world sounds nice,” Sam said and sighed, as he felt stupidly envious.

“Yeah, it’s good but it just isn’t my world without Sammy in it.” Dean’s expression was easy to read; Sam had seen it a million times on his own brother’s face. A fierce desire to protect his little brother, and a desperate need to keep him close.

“We need to gather together the ingredients we have left from the last time. The main stumbling block will be archangel grace because as far as I know there aren’t any left alive. For that particular thing we will have to bring Castiel in on our plan, but I’m confident he’ll come around eventually.”

“He looks at me funny.”

“He looks at everyone funny,” Sam replied and couldn’t hold back a genuine grin and Dean grinned back.

“You look better when you smile.”

“Thanks.” He was aware of his cheeks flaring red, feeling embarrassed by Dean’s compliment.

“I guess you haven’t had a lot to smile about recently, huh? I haven’t been here long but I know you’re not sleeping, or eating, as much as you should. You’re gonna make yourself sick and then you wouldn’t be much help to me, would you?”

“I was on vacation when you _found_ me. It was my first one for a long time.” Sam couldn’t hide the irony in his tone. “I guess it didn’t help me much really.”

“When I couldn’t find Sam I felt the same. When Bobby made me stay put and formulate a plan I didn’t eat or sleep for days. It was only when the stubborn old bastard said I couldn’t leave unless I rested and ate something that I pulled myself together.”

Sam nodded in response. There was nothing he could say really, only that he understood better than anyone in the entire universe how Dean felt. It appeared that this Dean and Sam had never been separated before; no years of Sam alone at Stanford, no jumps into hell, no demon-Dean, or soulless-Sam. He wasn’t sure how to comfort Dean, so he just leaned forward and put his hand over Dean’s.

“We’ll get that portal open,” he said and hoped he wasn’t making false promises. “We will find your brother.”

“Do you honestly think we will?” Green eyes held his and Sam saw a single tear thread its way down Dean’s cheek.

“If we have some faith, yeah I do.”

“Well I have faith in you Sammy.” 

Dean’s use of that nickname made Sam’s own eyes prickle.

“Thanks.” His hand closed around Dean’s and they sat in silence. The warmth of Dean’s skin against his own, the soft sound of his breathing meant for that one moment in time Sam felt like had his brother back again.

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=6ekivt)

****

Having faith was one thing, but finding archangel grace would be another. Sam didn’t take anyone’s advice and stayed up all that night making pointless lists and crossing out names. His fingers hurt, his eyes felt as if they were burning and he knew that, eventually, he was going to have to contact Cas. He needed the angel’s help, but he was certain that Castiel wouldn’t be very happy with him going down this road. He had the distinct feeling that Cas didn’t trust this _alternative_ Dean and, stupidly, that hurt.

He woke suddenly with his head stuck to his research with drool. There was a full cup of coffee steaming beside him, and a bacon sandwich that smelt disgustingly good.

“You need to eat Sammy.” Dean appeared in his field of vision and for one single heartbeat of a moment he thought that the last few months had been one long bad dream. He felt his mouth curve into a smile and the longing to leap up and embrace his brother was sharp in its intensity. “And sleep in a bed.”

“Yeah.” Sam grabbed the coffee and sipped at it gratefully. It was milky and sweet and just how he liked it, and he smiled again. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, well my Sam liked it like that . . . all fluffy and girly.” Dean smirked. “Must be the hair.”

Sam knew he was pulling a ‘bitch face’. He could feel his eyes narrow and his mouth tighten and Dean laughed out loud then.

“You are so damn like him at times, it’s scary.”

“Ditto.” Sam finished his coffee and turned his attention to the bacon and halfway through he began to yawn. He felt full and relaxed, and he wondered if it were the _Dean_ effect.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Dean put two hands under his arms and lifted him up carefully. Sam let himself lean into the man behind him, and found himself taking comfort in the solid strength that was offered. Slowly they made their way down the hall and into Sam’s room. “This is fucking stark,” Dean’s voice was close to his ear. “I mean there’s nothing of you in here.”

“I have my Netflix.” He allowed himself to be lowered onto the bed and he felt his head hit the pillow as he smothered another yawn, and Dean chuckled. 

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Another subtle difference.” Sam closed his eyes for a moment and heard the creak of Dean’s boots as he got to his feet. “Don’t go,” he surprised himself by sounding desperate and more than a little needy. “Stay with me a while, please.”

“Sure.” Dean sat back down, he’d sounded awkward but not freaked out and for that Sam was grateful. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” It was a painful but honest admission. He hadn’t been okay for a very long time. Not since he’d stood at his brother’s funeral pyre and watched the orange flames take Dean to the peaceful end he truly deserved.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

“I do. He was everything to me. He was my mother, father and caregiver. I never really had much of a childhood, but Dean tried his best. One Christmas he stole presents, and a pine tree from someone’s house. My dad wasn’t there, but Dean made sure I had something to open,” he said and chuckled at the memory. “Thing was the presents were intended for a girl, so I ended up with a Sapphire Barbie doll and a cheerleader baton.”

Dean’s belly laugh was comforting; he was holding his sides and snickering away and Sam couldn’t help but join him, the two of them sniggering so much that they were driven to actual tears. When they finally stopped Sam felt exhausted and ready to sleep. He closed his eyes and let his head rest on the pillow. He felt himself slipping away, and as darkness took him he swore he felt a gentle hand run through his hair and a soft voice whisper, “Sleep tight, Sammy.”

****

“You do realize that what you are doing is very dangerous Sam?” Castiel’s face was expressionless, but there was the dent of a frown between his brows and Sam knew he was holding back anger. Behind him Jack sat on a chair with his head down and his hands clasped between his knees. Sam had decided to do this bit alone, and had told Dean to wait in his room until he’d finished. The other man hadn’t been too happy and there had been swearing, but Sam knew his ‘family’ better than anyone, so he felt he had to be the one to broach the subject.

“Yeah, I know but I just feel as if I should help him. I’d want the same if it were me looking for ‘my’ Dean.”

“How do you know you can trust him?” Jack burst out, petulant, his eyes wide. “Just because he looks the same, he isn’t Dean! Dean’s . . . ,” he broke off unable to finish, and Sam felt a stab of something that was painful in its insistence.

“I just do,” it sounded lame. “Why would he lie? What does he have to gain? All we need to do is to open the portal for just a few minutes to let him go through. It won’t be like the last time, I promise you that.”

“He doesn’t even know if his brother is still alive, Sam. It seems incredibly foolish to continue jumping from world to world,” Castiel said.

“I intend to ask Rowena to help us. Maybe she can do a tracking spell to try and locate _Sam_.” It felt weird knowing that there was another _him perhaps hundreds more. He recalled the day his dad came back, and all the things that went sideways. The version of him that lived on Kale and did really lame inspirational talks. He couldn’t help but wonder what this Dean’s Sam was really like. A geek boy who had never been hooked on demon blood, who had never started the Apocalypse, and jumped into Hell to stop it. A Sam that loved his brother in every single way. What would it be like to live in that world where incest wasn’t a dirty word?_

He’d never realized until the moment this Dean told him that he slept with his version of Sam, that he’d harbored some of those forbidden feelings for his own brother. The hugs that had been so intimate and so close, their bodies pressed together so tightly there wasn’t even air between them. Moments in the middle of the night when he’d woken up to hear Dean in the other bed, hear his barely concealed gasps and the smack, smack, smack of his hand on flesh. The scent of sex permeating the room, and his own body’s reaction to what he could hear and smell. 

“Sam,” Castiel’s voice broke his reverie and he rubbed his face hoping it didn’t look as flushed as it felt. “If you are determined to do this, then we must be prepared to help you.”

“Thank you.”

“But you understand it will be most difficult to repeat the spell. We have most of the ingredients but the archangel grace . . . ,” he paused and Sam sighed.

“Yeah, they’re all dead. I know that.”

“Not all of them.” Jack looked up at him, as always keen to help. “I have archangel grace inside of me.”

“And it is staying there!” Castiel sounded stern but his expression was kind.

“Cas is right Jack,” Sam said and nodded. The thought had occurred to him, but he’d dismissed it instantly. “We can’t use you, it’s too dangerous.”

Jack looked crestfallen and Sam couldn’t help but grin wryly. The boy might not be a Winchester by blood but he was certainly a Winchester in every other way. He was always ready to sacrifice himself for the cause, and disappointed when he was turned down.

“What about Michael’s creatures then?” Jack stood up and came over to them. “They were all fed with his grace, maybe they contain just enough to keep the portal open for a few minutes at least.”

Sam felt a surge of hope, he grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him in for a quick hug.

“Genius.” 

“There are not too many of them still alive,” Castiel forever the realist murmured thoughtfully. “When we destroyed him . . . when Dean destroyed him, a lot of them were killed in the process.”

“But there are still a few stragglers, right?” He felt they were onto something, and he felt like a dog with a bone gnawing away.

“Yes, I believe there may be a few living underground here and there and, of course, we have Garth still hidden away in the bunker. He requested we keep him as he does not feel safe enough to go back to his wife and child yet.”

“There wouldn’t be enough with just one person.” Sam swallowed back his sympathy. “But he might be able to sense the others.” He slammed his fist down on the table. “Looks like we might be going on a hunt.”

****

“I’m coming with you.” Dean was sitting on the bed. He’d showered, and used some of the clothes that Sam said he could have. In the green shirt and patched jeans that used to be ‘his’ Dean’s he looked more like his brother than ever. Sam stared at him for a long time trying to see the subtle differences. This Dean had not so many lines around the eyes and mouth, no gray in his hair, and red-gold stubble which was almost a beard. This Dean had been much more _happy-go-lucky_ , and it was only recent events of losing Sam which weighed on him. This Dean had spent time at Stanford with Sam, had never been separated from him before. Sam felt a bitter and unexpected pang of envy for the ‘other’ Sam, and wished that it had been like that for him and his Dean.

“I don’t think you should, Dean. It’s going to be a dangerous mission, and these monsters are gonna be pissed.”

“You think I can’t handle it?” Dean was angry and he wasn’t even attempting to hide his emotions. “You think I don’t know how to hunt, and fight fucking monsters?”

“Dean . . . I know. Okay? I know that you are bound to be a fantastic hunter. I don’t doubt it for one moment, but this is different. These monsters are supercharged – they have been enhanced with archangel grace, and they’ve lost their leader. They are pissed and hiding, and they will kill without question.”

“I might not have fought any archangels, or Luci-fucking-fer but I know how to fight, Sam. I’m more than fantastic, I’m the biggest, the strongest and the best.”

Sam paused for a moment and thought perhaps it would be better to take Dean with him, if he did that he could leave Jack in the bunker and not put him at risk. He’d lost so many friends over the years and he’d lost family too. He didn’t think he could stand to lose anyone else.

“Okay, but – and this might be alien to you – you need to do as I say. You need to take orders from me, is that okay?”

Dean snickered then and nodded.

“You think I don’t have a bossy little brother? Like I said to you back in that cabin Sam is the brains of the outfit, and I’m the brawn. Sam finds the case and does the research so he knows what kills what, and which weapons to carry. If you are in charge then I’m gonna feel pretty damn safe.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Sam hold back couldn’t a smile in return. “I’ll supply you with everything you need and, in return, you can drive the car.”

Dean’s eyes lit up and he beamed from ear to ear.

“That awesome ride? Hey, I don’t need asking twice! Thanks Sammy.”

Sam felt his heart leap and his stomach contract, something deep inside of him stirred and he recognized it instantly as lust. There was a tightening in his jeans and he was glad they were baggy enough to hide whatever guilt he was feeling. This sudden urge to kiss his brother was alien but desperate. He tried to reason with himself, to tell himself this wasn’t his brother - this was someone else entirely, but his conscience knew he was lying.

“You okay?” Dean narrowed his eyes. “You look a little flushed. There’s no need to worry about me, Sam. Honestly.”

“I’m not worried,” he managed to choke out. “It’s just sometimes you . . . .”

“I know.” Dean moved closer and his hands gripped Sam’s shoulders hard and firm. 

Sam’s mouth was dry and his heart thundered against his chest as he found himself being pulled forward, he let himself go. He let himself lean into Dean. His eyelids fluttered closed and he felt a callused hand on his cheek, fingers caressing skin. 

He felt the brush of lips on his own and he opened his mouth, his tongue inviting another inside. The kiss turned from chaste to passionate in a matter of seconds, and he felt as if he had been set on fire. Unfamiliar stubble was rough on his flesh and he moaned into the kiss, his legs weak and his cock hardening swiftly. He let himself be pressed back against the bed and he let himself fall onto it, eyes so tightly closed now that it was if he were in a dream. Dean laughed under his breath and began to undo the buttons on Sam’s shirt. It fell open and his hectic flesh cooled as Dean bent his head and began to lick and suck at his nipples. He had never experienced anything like this before, and his cock was so hard he thought it might break out of its confines. He groaned and, shamelessly, grabbed Dean’s hand so that it was hard against the bulge in his jeans.

“You really want this?” Dean whispered, a stupid question given the way Sam’s body was reacting. Sam had lost the power of speech now, and he hoped the moan he gave was answer enough. He closed his eyes and lifted his ass so that Dean could drag both jeans and briefs down. He was naked now, and his body was flushed with heat. Dean chuckled again and took Sam’s cock firmly in the palm of his hand, closing his fingers tight.

“Fuck!” Sam forgot everything then. He forgot who this was above him, forgot that this wasn’t HIS brother, hell he even forgot his own name. He found himself thrusting shamelessly into Dean’s fist, the tightening of his balls warning him just how close he was. “I’m gonna . . . I gonna . . . ,” he groaned.

“Not without me, Sammy,” and that statement alone was almost enough to make him come. He shifted and propped himself up on his elbows, eyes opening to watch Dean take off his own clothes. The body beneath the clothes was both familiar and alien to Sam; the strong shoulders, broad chest and flat abs, the trail of red gold hair leading from his belly down to his cock, which was standing out from his body. Sam’s mouth watered and he let his own fingers reach out and envelope it in his hand. Dean closed his eyes then, and they both fell back onto the bed jerking at each other like a couple of desperate teenagers. Sam turned his head into the pillow and bit down on it to stop from crying out as he came. Beside him Dean buried his head into Sam’s neck and jolted, Sam’s hand turning wet. They were both panting as if they had run a marathon, and Sam kissed Dean over and over unable to stop.

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=166d4ax)

****

Sam wondered if anyone could tell what had happened. He’d been careful, there were no tell-tale hickeys, and no signs of the sudden passion that had gripped them both but it felt as if he had a sign on his head; a flashing light that spelt out, _‘Sam has jerked off with his brother_ ’. He knew he was internally reasoning with himself - telling himself it wasn’t really Dean, well not his Dean, and that this Dean was imagining him as a totally different Sam. He was aware that he wasn’t even convincing himself, so he was certain he couldn’t convince anyone else . . . not that he should, but guilt was eating him and it fucking hurt.

Jack was, understandably pissed, when he discovered he wasn’t being taken on this mission, but Cas managed to reassure him it was for his own good. Sam had also persuaded Cas to stay in the bunker with Jack unless he was summoned. He didn’t want Castiel’s angelic presence to signpost the fact they were coming, because he needed as many monsters and as much grace as he could handle.

When he got down to the garage Dean was already sitting in the car. He beamed at Sam through the window, and gave him a cocky thumbs up. Sam’s mouth was dry and he felt incredibly awkward as he opened the door and settled into shotgun. It had been a long while since he’d done this, and he suddenly felt like a real _little brother_ again.

“You okay?” Green eyes met his and he found it hard to respond to the question because honestly he didn’t know. He actually felt happier than he had in a good long while, and it was all down to _this_ Dean’s presence. It was like his brother was back in his life, and that their relationship was brilliant with both of them on the same page sharing everything - including physical pleasure.

Why hadn’t they done this before? Why hadn’t they crossed that one final line? Sam swallowed and bit his lip. Maybe it was because _his_ Dean wouldn’t have liked it. _His_ Dean would have been horrified or disgusted if Sam had made a move. 

“I don’t know to be honest.” 

“Do you regret what we did?” There was a sadness in those eyes and he didn’t want to be the one to put it there.

“No, no I don’t.”

“I know you think I was thinking about my Sammy, but in that moment I wasn’t. Maybe we shouldn’t have, but I wanted to and I think you wanted it too. I think you needed it, if truth be known.”

“You’re right. When you told me about you and _your Sammy_ I got to thinking that . . . ,” he trailed off and Dean nodded understanding clear in his eyes.

“You really loved him didn’t you?" 

“More than life. It’s been so fucking hard without him. I didn’t actually want to carry on, but I promised.” 

“It’s been really hard since Sammy vanished. There is the thought deep inside that he might be dead, and the constant internal denial. I can’t let it go, Sam. I have to find him.” 

“What if . . . ?” He didn’t know how to say it. “What if he’s gone?” 

Dean lowered his head. It wasn’t so easy to see his face now, but Sam knew what he was thinking and he knew what his expression would be. He’d seen it on Dean’s face countless times; when he left for Stanford, when Dean found him at Cold Oak after Jake had stabbed him, when he’d walked away from Dean and towards Ruby and had chosen betrayal and, worst of all, when he’d jumped into Hell with Lucifer inside of him. He knew, better than anyone, how much Dean loved his little brother. It was the same for _this_ Dean, and probably every version of Dean in every single universe that existed. 

“I hadn’t even considered it. I can’t live in a world where Sammy isn’t there. I can’t . . . I don’t even want to think about that.” 

“I know.” Sam reached out and put a hand on Dean’s knee. “Believe me, Dean. I know.” 

“Let’s go and find those monsters of yours, and get that fucking grace.” Dean looked fierce and determined and Sam felt a surge of affection that was unexpected but welcome. He also felt a painful envy for that other Sam; that Sam who still had a big brother who would risk death to find him, and would give him all of the love that _his_ Dean had once bestowed on him. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Sam leaned forward and pressed the on button to the tape deck. Metallica blasted out through the speakers, and Sam rolled down the window and closed his eyes. It was good, he mused, to get back on the road. 

_****_

Working on Intel from Garth they had located a small nest of creatures in Tulsa. It was around a 5 hour drive away, and Sam hadn’t realized how much he’d missed riding in the car with his brother until he was doing it again. With rock music blasting out, and Dean tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel it was just like old happier times. 

They stopped for lunch at a small diner and Sam found himself eating more than he had in a while, bolting down steak and eggs rather than his usual salad. Dean watched him fondly and Sam wondered if he was seeing _his_ Sam rather than the one who sat opposite him. 

“Nice to see you eat at last,” Dean answered his question for him. ”You haven’t exactly pigged out since I got here. Sammy never stops eating. I reckon he has hollow legs,” he said and laughed. “We go on food runs daily, rather than weekly . . . and there’s always pie.” 

“I haven’t had much of an appetite recently.” He stared down at his empty plate shocked that he had eaten so much in such a short time. “It seems like I’m feeling better.” 

“I haven’t thanked you, not really, for doing all this. I realize how hard this must be for you.” 

“Yeah, well it’s hard for you too. Dean and I have had our issues in the past, but when he died we were finally on the same page. There are so many things I regret, and so many things I needed him to forgive me for. It’s too late now, and I guess I’m gonna have to live with that.” 

“I didn’t know your brother, Sam but I guess we have a lot – a fucking load – in common. I think he would have forgiven you for everything anyway. Sammy and me . . . we’ve had our ups and downs, but we always resolved things and never went to bed on an argument.” He chuckled wryly. “It makes us sound like an old married couple, and I guess we were like that really.” 

“I hope that we can find him for you again.” 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “It seems like decades since I saw him, but since I’ve been here . . . .” His eyes met Sam’s. He shrugged. “I just . . . .” 

Sam nodded, he didn’t trust himself to speak and even if he did he really had nothing he could say. All he hoped for was that they could find enough grace to open a portal, and for Dean to find his Sam again. Deep down though he was dreading that moment because it felt as if he were saying goodbye to his brother all over again. After taking that final physical step he’d become closer to this version of Dean, than he really should have, and it hurt to think that he would lose him. It wasn’t fair – not really – and Sam wondered what he would do when this Dean was gone. He hadn’t been coping very well, and his short vacation had done nothing to ease the pain of his loss. He’d promised his brother that he would go on and have some sort of life, but he was beginning to realize that without Dean he had no life at all. 

_****_

It was hard to know just what weapons to take when they left the bunker, but they went for the usual angel blades, machetes, holy water and salt. The creatures could be anything, but Michael seemed to favor werewolves and so they had to go with that and hope for the best. 

It seemed odd for Sam to be the one drilling Dean, explaining to him what might happen when they infiltrated the nest. These were no ordinary monsters, and he wasn’t going to get this far only to get Dean killed in the process. They would need to be as strong and as united as they could be. They needed to be a team. He hadn’t hunted with this version of his brother, but he was confident that they would be okay together. 

The monsters were holed up in a deserted cabin just outside of the city, it was remote and surrounded by scrub and acres of dried grass. There was a battered old Prius parked outside of the building, and a couple of rabid looking dogs guarding the door. The roof had caved in at one point, and it was covered with what looked like cardboard. The whole place looked uninhabited, but they knew better. 

They entered using a pincer movement; Dean through the back door, Sam through the front. It was a risk, and what made it worse was that they had to keep the things alive until they had extracted Michael’s grace. 

The room was dank and dark and smelt bad. There were two skinny looking boys crouched over something that looked like a dead rabbit, while a woman huddled in the corner rocking fitfully. There were also two healthier looking men standing by the grimy windows, and one of them snapped his head around as soon as Sam stepped inside. 

After that it was chaos. The men were strong and fierce, but weakened by hunger and the two skinny boys couldn’t fight at all. Sam managed to knock one of the men out while Dean brought another one down, and handcuffed him using the silver cuffs. Sam winced at his scream of pain, and saw the steam rising up from his reddening skin. The woman was screaming now, and she clutched the boys to her weeping hysterically. Once the men were restrained Sam tied the others up as Dean rifled through his backpack and found the collection of syringes they had with them. 

Plunging the syringes into the werewolves flesh and carefully drawing out the grace was a sickening and time consuming process. Sam remembered, only too well, the pain it had caused him and he felt sick as he drew grace from the scrawniest kid watching as the boy turned white and his lips went blue. It was the same for all of them, and after they had finished Sam had a whole bottle full of grace and a heavy heart full of unexplained guilt. 

“What now?” Dean was staring at the bottle in fascination. “Do we just leave them here to die?” 

“Merciful thing would be to kill them.” 

Dean nodded but his face was almost as pale as the monsters 

“I’ve never seen them as weak as this. I thought this was gonna be some kick ass dangerous hunt, but it was like hunting children.” 

Sam stared at the monsters. He was certain one of the kids was already dead and another was struggling to breathe. They weren’t to blame – not really – it was Michael who had done this to them. He felt a surge of hatred for the archangel, and he wanted to spit or scream instead he gestured to Dean with a weak smile. 

“You take the grace back to the car, I’ll deal with this.” 

“Will you be okay?” 

Sam who had, in all honesty, been expecting a much harder job than this nodded. 

“Yeah,” he lied. “I’ll be fine." 

_****_

Once returned to the bunker the next part of the plan was to contact Rowena. Cas and Jack had been overjoyed to have them back, and insisted on beer and pizza to celebrate. Sam watched Dean as he stared at the glittering bottle of angel grace, and he wondered what the other man was thinking. This could be his way home and, more importantly, this could be his way back to his brother. A way back to _his_ Sam. He should be glad. He should be glad that they’d done the job, and had made it back alive, but instead he felt incredibly miserable and he hoped he was doing a good enough job to hide his real feelings. Finally he made his excuses and went to his room. It was a relief to lay down on his bed and close his eyes, wretchedness stinging at his lashes and a feeling of overwhelming emptiness enveloping him. 

“Hey.” Dean walked through the door without even knocking, but Sam couldn’t bring himself to feel mad. He lifted himself up on his elbows reluctantly hoping the other man couldn’t see how despondent he really was. “You left a little quickly back there. You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” It even sounded like a lie to his own ears so he was convinced that Dean didn’t believe him. 

“You’re not fine, Sammy. So don’t lie to me, okay. You look like shit again, and you didn’t exactly go mad with either the beer or the pizza.” 

“I guess I just feel as if I’m losing you . . . Dean . . . all over again.” And there it was, out there and honest and Dean could do what he liked with the information. 

The older man sighed and moved over to the bed and sat down with a huff. He put his hand on Sam’s chest just over his heart. 

“Seeing you here like this - it’s . . . I can’t pretend that it’s not weird, but I’ve kinda gotten fond of you Sam. I don’t ever get confused, and I never think of you as _mine_ but I can’t help but be drawn to you. I’m sorry if this is hurting you, cos that’s the very last thing I’d ever want to do.” 

“Dean.” He reached up then and grabbed Dean by the shoulders and the other man came willingly. Dean allowed Sam to smother him with soppy kisses, falling down between Sam’s open thighs, and caressing his face with gentle tenderness. Sam groaned and let Dean pull his sleep shirt from over his head, let him suck and nibble at his nipples, the longing inside of him bursting out in an explosion of unbridled lust. He moaned then and bucked upwards as Dean continued to kiss his exposed flesh. He moved on from nipple to sternum, to belly button, and then down until his head was between Sam’s thighs and his tongue rasped against Sam’s erection. Sam thought he might come there and then. He couldn’t stop himself from grabbing Dean’s head and holding it, fingers catching in the short hair at the back of his neck. Dean chuckled and wrapped his lips around Sam’s cock. The sensations inside of Sam were indescribable and his stomach tightened, his balls drawing up. Dean’s hands moved up Sam’s thighs and began to stroke him, parting his ass cheeks and gently moving his finger between them. Sam could only choke out a warning as he came hard and fast. Dean swallowed down all Sam had to give and, finally, when he was spent he lifted his head and grinned down at him. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah. That was . . . .” He had no words really, and he sat up and reached for Dean again wanting only to return the favor. Dean shook his head and gestured to his own groin which was damp, cock hanging limply against his thighs. 

“That’s the effect you have on me, Sammy,” he whispered and Sam could only shake his head amazed at the intensity of his feelings. 

__

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=302ual0)

****

When he woke up Dean was gone and the space next to him was cold and empty. He lay for a long time with his arm thrown over his eyes, his cell phone lying next to him almost mockingly. Rowena’s number was on speed dial and it was time to find out if she could help them to find that other Sam. He sat up in bed abruptly and picked up the phone staring at it like it might bite him. Minutes passed and then he hit the button and let the thing ring. Two or three beats in and Rowena answered her voice low and sleep filled.

“Samuel, what a lovely surprise. What can I do for you?”

He cleared his throat and swallowed down the lump there, slowly and carefully he explained the situation to her. To her credit she said nothing until he had finished and, when she finally spoke, her voice was gentle and he knew she understood everything.

“I’m on my way Samuel. Please don’t do anything majorly stupid until I get there, alright?”

“Yeah, sure Rowena. Thanks.”

“Take care Samuel.”

“I will.”

****

Rowena sat at the table in the bunker and looked around. It was quiet, a lot of the hunters were out on jobs and there was no sign of Cas or Jack. Sam couldn’t help but feel relieved that there was only the three of them, particularly as Rowena couldn’t take her eyes off Dean.

“Do you have witches in your universe . . . ?” She smiled at him all charm, and patted the book in front of her. “ . . . As powerful as me?”

“Yeah, we have witches and they are powerful enough but there’s nothing like you.” Dean grinned and snapped a wink at Sam. “Certainly not one who would help us, that’s for certain.”

“Oh.” Rowena looked smug for a moment. “Well Samuel here, will tell you what a ‘star’ I am. Won’t you Samuel?”

Sam nodded because he didn’t actually trust himself to speak. He felt oddly sick, and he was finding it hard to concentrate on what was happening. He felt as if he was losing his brother all over again, and it wasn’t a particularly nice feeling.

“So you want me to locate your brother?” Rowena was still talking and her gaze was fixed on Dean’s face.

“Sam says if anyone can do it, you can.”

“Och, flattery will get you everywhere my young lad.” Rowena turned one of the book’s pages and Sam caught a glimpse of sigils and blood spells and he shuddered.

“Will we need to open the portal first?” Finally he managed to interject himself into the conversation and Rowena snapped her head around as if she had forgotten he was there. Her green eyes were knowing beneath thick lashes and there was an expression on her face he had never seen before, it was something akin to compassion.

“No, if I do the location spell correctly then no. You should be able to conserve the grace you have.” She smiled shaking her head ruefully “I am powerful enough to do it, but I must have complete control and complete concentration.” She turned to Dean and asked, “Do you have something that belonged to your brother? An item of clothing, or something he touched.”

Dean looked perplexed for a moment and then he reached into the neck of his tee-shirt and pulled out a small gold amulet. Sam took a sharp breath in as he stared at it. It was different to the amulet he had given Dean all those Christmases’ ago, but he could see by Dean’s expression that it meant a lot to him. 

“Sam gave this to me,” he whispered almost reverently. “I carry it everywhere with me.” He flushed and looked down at the table as if it had become suddenly fascinating. “It was a symbol of our brotherhood. A reminder of what we mean to each other.”

Rowena said nothing but her eyes were on Sam again. She knew. He knew she knew but it was almost too painful for him to think about. The amulet that had been so precious to them both had burned with his brother, and he had been thankful that Dean had found it again during their run-in with Amara. He recalled fondly how Dean had hung up the papier-mâché imitation that Marie had made, and how it had dangled there on the mirror for weeks, months even, before it had finally broken. 

He wiped at his eyes angrily and bit his lip hard. Rowena shook her head subtly and he tried to smile but the effort hurt way too much.

“Give it to me.” She turned her attention back to Dean and took the piece of jewelry from him turning it over and over it her hands as if she were trying to imprint upon it. She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them they burned blue. 

Dean moved back so fast his chair tipped over with a crash, but Rowena didn’t blink or move a muscle. She held the amulet to her chest and it began to glow, bright golden flashes of light that projected out from the tiny object, and the air around them crackled with electricity. Sam had seen this before and it didn’t particularly alarm him, but Dean had paled visibly and there was sweat on his brow. Sam put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. Dean calmed then and leaned into him, breathing in and out to ground himself.

Rowena was chanting now and her eyes rolled up in her head, they were white with no pupil showing and her voice had taken a low almost guttural timbre. Sam didn’t understand the words but he did understand the tone, and that this was extremely strong magic. For a moment time seemed suspended, the air thick with enchantment, bright lights and loud chanting, the three of them lost in the world that Rowena had made.

Then there was an explosion so loud and so sharp that it appeared to split the fabric of their universe. Portals popped open within the room, bright rips in time. Sam was thrown backwards hard and the back of his head hit the concrete floor with a sickening crack. He saw stars for a moment and then everything faded and, for a long time, he saw nothing at all.

****

“Sam. Sam!”

He wasn’t lying on the floor any longer, he knew that much. There was something soft beneath his head, and there was a cold damp cloth of some kind pressed against his forehead. He felt sick and swallowed down nausea recognizing the clear signs of a massive concussion. He forced open sticky eyes to see Castiel bending over him concern clear on his face.

“How long have I been out?” His memory was fuzzy, unclear but he did recall the spell Rowena had cast and he wondered if it had worked.

“A few hours. We were concerned, but I have managed to heal you. I know you do not like hospitals.”

“Was I badly hurt?”

“A minor fracture of the skull.” Castiel was all business and Sam gulped back his nausea. “But you are alright now.”

“Where’s Rowena?”

“She is with Dean,” there was something in the angel’s tone that made Sam’s ears prick up and he struggled into a seating position. Castiel seemed to sense he was still feeling sick because he lifted his fingers and placed them gently on Sam’s forehead, and as warmth flooded his system he felt instantly better.

“What happened?”

“Rowena has found the location of . . . ,” he paused and frowned. “ _Sam_.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

Castiel was silent for too long and Sam could almost hear him thinking. He sat up further and when he had no more ill effects he swung his legs around and perched on the end of the bed looking for his shirt and boots.

“You should rest for a while longer.” Cas was never very good at lying or stalling. “Make sure you are really feeling better.”

“I feel fine Cas. I’ve had two doses of angel medicine and I feel fine.” He narrowed his eyes. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? What did Rowena see?”

“I think you should speak to ‘Dean’ yourself. He is not in a good place right now.”

Something tightened around Sam’s heart and he stood up abruptly making his head spin a little. He needed to know what had happened back there. He needed to know what Rowena saw. They had all of the ingredients now so they could open the portal. If _Sam_ was in danger they needed to get to him quickly.

“Is he somewhere treacherous? Is that what Rowena saw? That bad place where the monsters were, is he there?”

Castiel was still silent and Sam was finding it hard to read his expression. He shoved his feet into an old battered pair of boots and slipped a hoodie over his head. He was feeling almost 100% better and his blood was pulsing through his veins. He needed to do something, he needed to help Dean find _his_ Sam.

“Sam.” Cas put a hand on his shoulder then. “You need to calm down.”

“I just want to help him, Cas. I don’t want him to go through the pain I had to endure. I don’t want him to lose his brother.”

“Sam, it is too late. Dean’s brother is dead.”

“What?” The world whirled about him again and he swayed on his feet, and the angel gripped both arms now and held him tightly keeping him upright and refusing to let him fall.

“Rowena was finding it hard to track ‘Sam’ because his life force was weak, barely there in fact. When she found him it was too late. He was gone.”

Sam slumped back down onto the bed and buried his head in his hands. He felt as if he wanted to scream and shout at the unfairness of life. Dean’s brother was dead. Dean would now feel the same agonizing pain of loss, and the desperation and guilt of not being able to save his brother. The pain of wondering if life was worth living without him.

“I need to see Dean.” 

“He is waiting for you. He said you’d know where he was.”

Sam smiled wryly.

“Yeah, I know where he is.”

****

He entered his brother’s room without knocking. Dean sat on the bed with his head in his hands and he looked terrible. There were shadows beneath his eyes which looked red and swollen with crying.

“Castiel told me what happened. I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Dean shook his head.

“I have to go to him,” he whispered. “I can’t leave him there.”

Sam knew better than to say _but he’s dead_. Given the circumstances, if it were him, he would want to go too. He wouldn’t want to leave his brother alive or dead in a strange place. 

“Where is he?” 

“Looks like a really bad place. Rowena said you’d been there once. She said there were monsters.”

“Yeah.” Sam had suspected as much. “It was pretty grim.”

“You’ve got enough to open the portal?”

“Yeah but we can’t keep it open for long.”

Dean shrugged and Sam knew what he was thinking - this was a suicide mission for Dean, and if he didn’t get back he didn’t much care.

“I’m gonna come with you.” 

“What? No, Sam.”

“I’m not letting you go there alone. I’ve been there before, and I know my way around. I’ll help you find Sam, and then we’ll come back.”

“You want to risk your life?”

“I’m not prepared to risk either of our lives.” Sam reached forward and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and squeezed.

“I don’t . . . ,” Dean paused and swallowed. “Being here with you – it felt right somehow, but now it just feels fucking wrong.”

Sam recognized, only too well, the guilt in Dean’s tone, he’d heard it too often in his own ‘Dean’s’ voice, and seen it on his face. The older brother who was hard-wired to protect his younger sibling. The older brother who would give everything to make sure that his baby brother was safe.

“I’m sorry, but you tried to find him. You tried to save him . . . all this . . . this . . . it isn’t your fault.”

Dean laughed bitterly and Sam couldn’t say a word, he knew that Dean was going to blame himself for this just as Sam blamed himself for _his_ Dean’s death even though, deep down, he knew it wasn’t his fault.

“I just want to see him,” 

“I understand, believe me. I understand only too well, but I’m not gonna let you go alone and I’m not gonna let you die out there alone either. We’ll go, and then we’ll talk.”

“Your angel isn’t gonna be happy about this.” Dean’s eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“Yeah, well he’s never happy but I’m a big boy now and I’m capable of doing what I want without anyone’s approval.” Sam managed a weak smile. “So let’s go find Rowena and open the portal.”

****

“I can only keep it open for 24 hours and that is using strong magic.” Rowena’s expression told him that she was unhappy with his decision but he ignored it and just smiled gratefully. “Samuel.” She looked around for Dean who was busy packing a duffle, and appeared to be ignoring them. “You are risking your life and his to find a corpse, should you really be doing this?”

“You know the answer to that.” 

“He’s dead, I saw him.”

“I guess that Dean needs to see him for himself to be sure. I’d do the same, and you know it.”

“When Cas finds out he will not be happy Samuel.”

“Hopefully we can be in and out again before Cas even knows we’re gone.”

“I only worry about you Samuel, and I cannot help but question your motives. He isn’t your brother.”

Sam knew that. He knew he should distance himself and let it all go. Technically this man might look like his brother, might even act a little like his brother but in reality he was a stranger, and he should mean nothing to Sam. Except Sam had allowed himself to become emotionally involved, not just mentally but physically. He’d laid down with Dean and he’d let Dean touch him, let Dean inside of him and he’d joined them in every single way that they could be joined. If Sam was really, truly honest with himself he would have to admit that he had fallen in love. He’d fallen in love with a man who looked like his brother, but then maybe he had always been a little in love with Dean.

****

It was a sight he never thought he’d see again, but there was the portal with its jagged slash of light wavering in front of them. Beside him Dean was twitching with ill-concealed energy, but his face was pale and there was a bloody mark on his lip where he had been worrying it with his teeth. Sam glanced back to where Rowena sat over the bowl of glowing grace, behind her Castiel stood rigid but it was obvious he didn’t approve of any of this. Sam gave both of them a hopeful grin but got nothing in return. Sighing he picked up his pack and made his way towards the portal, he needed to go, and go now before he changed his mind.

****

It was raining with relentless driving hail, and wind kept whipping their hair and skin. The place was as dark and as forbidding as Sam remembered, and he shuddered, water trickling down his face and stinging his eyes. They had to be careful and quick, there were monsters here and – since Kaia died – no one to protect them, so they would have to rely on each other.

As they trudged through the mud, their feet soaked through, Sam began to realize that they were fucking insane to come to this place in search of a corpse. They had less than 24 hours now and no conception of where the body might be, or what state in might be in. 

“You think we’re mad don’t you?” Dean’s hair was plastered to his skull and his face was as white as milk, eyes burning hot jade.

“I-I . . . yeah, but I know why you are doing this. Though now we are here, I’m not sure it’s one of the wisest decisions I’ve ever made.” 

Dean snorted a humorless laugh and shook his head.

“Yeah,” he swallowed hard. “I just need to see him. I need to make sure that he really is . . . ,” it was clear he couldn’t say the word and Sam was plunged back in time, to a dark day in the clearing, the scent of burning and the sight of his brother’s ashes rising into the heavens.

“Let’s just keep walking.” Sam kept himself together but it was hard and he could barely get his own words out. “Make sure we leave some sort of trail – I do not want to get lost in this place.”

***

It seemed as if they had been walking for days but, in reality, it was only a matter of hours. Sam was drenched through and beginning to shiver, his stomach grumbling and his throat surprisingly dry given the fact they were surrounded by water. Beside him Dean was silent and stoic and he reminded Sam so much of his own brother at this point it was almost agonizing, and once again he wondered what the hell he was going to do when he ‘lost’ this Dean as well.

“Look!” Dean set off running before Sam could stop him, slipping and sliding across the ground and almost losing his footing. The amount of noise he was making seemed louder, more invasive and Sam began to wonder what sort of attention they might be attracting. Dean was ahead of him now and skidding on his knees towards the undergrowth. “Sammy!”

It was a howl of both pain and anguish. Dean was leaning forward bent almost double, and he was scrabbling in the dirt lifting something.

“Dean.”

He couldn’t remember Cold Oak, but Bobby had talked about it often enough when he’d had too many beers and was feeling maudlin. He’d talked about the way Dean had dropped to his knees in the mud, how Dean had lifted Sam up and held him close, how he’d rested Sam’s limp head on his shoulder and how he’d talked to Sam telling him how he was going to take care of him, how he was going to take care of his _pain in the ass little brother_. Watching the scene in front of him unfold gave Sam a weird feeling of déjà vu, and he realized now why Dean had felt such a compulsion to sell his soul.

“Dean!”

He approached cautiously. Dean was sobbing so hard that his body was shaking with anguish and pain. It was so unlike his ‘own’ brother, the man who would hold every single feeling tight inside of him. The man whose only sign of grief would be silent tears, or a few hours hiding in his room, or in Baby. Sam swallowed hard and went down onto his knees reaching out a careful hand and gripping the other man’s shoulder gently.

He tried not to look but it was hard. The body Dean clutched so close to him had clearly been there for some time. The hideous stiffness of rigor mortis had already set in and there was a blueish tinge to the skin. Blank eyes stared out of sunken sockets and thick chestnut hair hung in clumps sticking to the corpse’s face. He had certainly never seen himself dead before, and it was a sight that he would never forget. Of all the horrors he had confronted – and that included Lucifer’s true face – this was possibly the worst. His fingers tightened convulsively on Dean’s shoulder and he leaned in so that he could rest his head against his bicep, a small offer of comfort.

It seemed like an eternity before Dean’s harsh sobs turned to quiet weeping and, finally, faded away into silence. Sam hadn’t moved from his crouched position and his legs were cramped and aching. 

“We should . . . .” He was hyper aware of their time restraint, and knew that they had to act quickly. “Dean we should give him a hunter’s funeral.”

“Do we have to do it here?” Dean’s voice was thick with grief and he kept his head down. It was clear he was clutching at straws now, and Sam breathed in through his nose.

“We can’t take . . . ,” he almost said _it_ , but he stopped himself and stiffened his shoulders. “We can’t take him with us through the portal, if we do it here he will still be able to get to heaven.” 

“Heaven? You believe in that?”

“Believe? I’ve been there.” Sam gave him a weak and watery smile. “I’ve been there, and it really is heaven.” He chose to omit the one time he did remember, being chased by Zachariah, seeing his mom again, and being reminded of all the times he had run away and made his brother unhappy. He liked to think that it was all okay up there now, and that _his_ Dean was up there driving the Impala, drinking beer and eating all of his favorite pies.

“Will you help me?”

“Of course.” Sam got to his feet with a sigh; his knees were creaking uncomfortably, and he ached from head to toe. Dean hung onto the body just a little while longer, and then he too rose to his feet.

“We should build a pyre.”

Sam nodded. Dean’s face was pale, but his eyes were red and swollen and he looked ten years older. No-one understood what he was feeling more than Sam did, but that didn’t make it better or easier for either of them. Sam wondered why the Winchesters – from any dimension – were so fucking unlucky, and why they had to suffer so much unnecessary pain.

Together they hacked down trees and bushes to build a rough but effective pyre. Sam was on constant guard, with nervous energy making him work faster, his body bathed in sweat. Finally it was done, and Sam turned to where the corpse still laid. He paused for a moment and then pulled off his over shirt. He knelt down and wrapped the shirt around the body’s face and neck. He guessed Dean didn’t want to remember his Sammy like that and to be honest Sam didn’t want to look at that familiar lifeless face again. Dean’s hands were shaking when they laid the body on the pyre and Sam had to take most of the weight. This Sam was thinner than he was, but still long, and still heavy. It was beyond bizarre to be in this place again with a man who was, and yet wasn’t, Dean and it didn’t bare thinking about. Sam stared at the body on the pyre and he felt shivers across his neck and spine. He closed his eyes as Dean walked forward and kept them closed until he heard the snick of the lighter. When he opened them again the flames were leaping high, burning orange against the grim greyness of their surroundings. Dean was quiet and there were tears pouring down his cheeks again. Sam was oddly relieved that there were no angels or major demons in Dean’s world, as he was convinced that the other man would have sold his soul to one in an instant if he could have gotten Sam back.

They stayed by the pyre until it had burnt down to black ash. Sam glanced at his watch and realized that they had very little time left. 

“We should go,” he whispered the words and Dean just nodded. Together they turned away from the pyre and made their way back to the portal, in total and utter silence.

****

Back in the bunker things were awkward. Castiel was clearly still angry at Sam for actually going through with what he considered to be a pointless exercise, and Jack glowered silently because he hadn’t even been consulted or involved. The other hunters were still away from the bunker and only Rowena welcomed them back with any sort of understanding. Sam was mildly surprised to see compassion in her eyes but, like him, she had known the grief of losing a loved one (although her relationship with Crowley had been far from fond). 

The portal had closed behind them not long after they had arrived back from the bad place. It would be almost impossible to open it again, and there was the sudden and aching realization that _this_ Dean was trapped in Sam’s universe. There might be implications to this which Sam hadn’t thought through. He felt oddly empty, flat and wracked with both guilt and grief. He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt so fucking guilty, but he did, and it was a feeling that wouldn’t go away.

Dean locked himself in _his_ room and wouldn’t answer Sam’s knocks or shouts. After a while it seemed to be a good idea to leave him, he was grief-stricken and inconsolable and Sam knew that feeling better than anyone.

****

It was late – well past midnight – and he couldn’t sleep. Eventually he found himself in the library hunched over some tacky paperback that had belonged to his brother. It was a detective story from the fifties, dog-eared and clichéd but enough to stop Sam from thinking too much. He sat on one of the soft, shabby chairs with his feet on the table, and a glass of whiskey beside him. It concerned him sometimes how much he drank now. Back in the day he had never been much of a drinker, and Dean had delighted in calling him a lightweight. Now he could consume as much as half a bottle without even feeling it.

“Sammy.”

For a moment his heart jolted hard in his chest. He was almost waiting for the flickering of lights, or a sudden drop in temperature but then he remembered and he turned to see Dean standing in the doorway, white-faced and heavy-eyed.

“Hey?” He half rose from the chair but Dean waved his hand randomly gesturing that he stay seated. “How are you feeling?”

Dean said nothing and just slumped down into the seat beside him. He looked as if he had aged a decade in one day, and Sam wanted to reach out and hold him but at this moment in time it wasn’t his place. At the end of the day this wasn’t his brother, and he wasn’t the Sam that _this_ Dean wanted. His own loss had colored his feelings in all of this, and he’d stopped thinking of Dean as _different_ a long time ago. When they had been on the road together and hunting monsters for grace it had been as close to his, laughably, normal life as it could be. He wanted this man. Dare he say it? He fucking loved this man, and he didn’t really know what to do about it or how to reconcile everything.

Dean took a large slug of the whiskey and wiped his mouth. He smelled bad, and his hair was thick with grease. Sam was certain that he was wearing the same shirt he had worn when they had been in the bad place, but he wasn’t about to start lecturing Dean on his personal hygiene.

“It’s closed for good now, hasn’t it?” When Dean finally spoke his voice was low and scratchy. 

“The portal? Yeah, I don’t think we would find enough archangel grace to open it again.”

“So, what you’re saying is that I’m trapped here? In this universe.”

“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t an answer but it was all he could think to say right then. Dean blinked owlishly at him and shook his head staring at the whisky bottle as if it might suddenly give him the knowledge he sought.

“Not your fault. You did everything you could to help me, and you risked your fucking life so that we could find Sam . . . but he’s gone. Fuck! How do you carry on without your brother? How do you fucking wake up every morning and face the world?”

“For a long time I didn’t.” Sam chanced leaning closer and putting his hand on Dean’s knee. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but it was the most physical contact he could risk right now. “I really didn’t. There have been four separate occasions when I’ve had to live without Dean. The first was when I ran away to Stanford, and my dad told me not to come back. It was hard, so fucking hard, and not a day went by without me wanting to pick up the phone and talk to him, but I knew he was alive. I sensed it almost, and so it made things a little more tolerable.”

“You never saw each other? Didn’t keep in touch?” He didn’t even try to hide his surprise, and Sam shook his head ruefully.

“Never picked up the phone. I was selfish, stubborn, and I wasn’t gonna ever admit I was wrong.”

“And the second time?”

“Dean went to Hell. Yeah, I’ve seen heaven but I’ve seen hell too, and it isn’t pretty. H-He . . . ,” Sam found himself choking on the words and he swallowed hard. “He sold his soul for me.”

“What?”

“I died. I was stabbed in the back, and Dean couldn’t let that happen so he sold his soul and got a year to live but he didn’t care. All he wanted was us together – hunting, and saving people - you know the drill.”

“There’s a lot you haven’t told me, isn’t there?” Dean shook his head and buried his face into his hands. “About you, and your brother.”

“There’s several books worth, in fact,” Sam said and snorted a weak laugh. “There have been a few books written about us by Chuck, who was a prophet who turned out to be God.”

“I didn’t think this universe was all that different from mine, but it is.” Realization dawned in his eyes. “You are so very different to my Sam,” Dean said, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. “And yet, sometimes you are so damn alike it fucking hurts.”

“I’m glad that I’m a little like him.” Sam moved his hand to grip Dean’s own and he held it tight, nails digging into flesh. “So glad.”

Dean gripped back and let the tears fall as he leaned into Sam.

“And what about the other times?” He ground out slowly.

“The third time Dean just vanished. I looked everywhere for him but he was gone, and after a few months I had to assume he was dead. I-I guess I lost my mind a little. I just drove and drove, and then I hit a dog.”

“You hit a dog?”

“Yeah, long story, but I met someone – a girl, and we tried to make a go of it but it didn’t really work.”

“You didn’t love her?”

“No, and I know that now. I know that because I’ve realized that I was in love with Dean.”

And it was out there, the elephant in the proverbial room. He’d been thinking about it for some time, thinking about the failed relationships, and the way he was unable or unwilling to have one night stands. He recalled the night he’d spent with Piper in the back of Baby, of how proud Dean had been, and how deep down in his psyche he knew he was in love with his fucking brother.

“You didn’t act on it?”

“No, I’m not sure if he felt the same. I was never sure, and I didn’t what to risk what we did have by pushing it.” He swallowed and Dean squeezed his hand again encouraging. “Now I’ll never know.”

Dean was silent for a long time, finally he said, “And the last time?”

“Dean had been possessed by Michael, and I kept trying, but I couldn’t set him free. We did it eventually. We destroyed the fucker in the process, but then I knew I would have to learn to live without Dean and this time it was gonna be forever. So you see I can’t carry on without my brother. I wake up every morning but I find it so fucking hard to face the world. When I saw you I thought at first I’d failed, I thought I hadn’t salted and burned him right. I thought he was haunting me, and for a long time I wanted that. I wanted him back with me in any form.”

“And now?”

“Now it feels like I have my brother back.”

“But I’m not him.”

“I know, but I don’t care.”

If Dean was shocked he didn’t show it, green eyes held his own for a moment and then he looked down again and wiped a hand angrily across his face.

“I can’t go home,” he said, finally.

“No, and I guess that there might be some repercussions in the fabric of time with you being here, but I’m not sure it’s going to be cataclysmic.”

“What if it is? There’s nothing we can do about it.” 

“No.” Sam wanted to hold him, he had to virtually sit on his hands to stop himself.

“Sammy?” That nickname again and it almost broke him. He bit his lip hard to stop blubbing like a girl, and Dean smiled weakly. “We are a right fucking pair aren’t we?”

Then there were strong arms around him, holding him as close as possible, a hard, solid body against his own and then a soft mouth capturing his lips, tongue seeking entry, passion, sorrow and desperation driving them on.

This time Sam wanted to give Dean everything. He lay back and struggled out of his clothing so that he was naked and ready. Dean gazed down at him and smiled.

Dean kissed him then with infinite tenderness. He touched Sam everywhere, almost worshiping his body with callused hands that were gentle and encouraging. Sam felt his mind drift away – lost as he was on a sea of desire. He heard Dean as he moved slightly, heard the soft snick of a bottle being opened, and then Dean was preparing him, taking his time, making sure he was good and ready.

Then it was a mix of pleasure and pain. He felt as if he were being filled; Dean all around him, over him and inside of him as he wrapped his legs around Dean’s waist and buried his ankles into Dean’s flesh. There was nothing between them, nothing to mask the sensations that wracked his body. Nothing but flesh on flesh.

When he came it was like an explosion and he almost whited out. He clenched around Dean and felt the other man come inside of him and he wondered if he would ever feel like this again. He knew then that he was in love with this man, he knew he would do anything to keep him close, and do anything to make sure he didn’t lose him like he’d lost every single person he had ever loved before.

After they didn’t talk, they just snuggled down together and held each other tightly, both of them wondering what life would have in store for them now.

****

They settled for a life in the bunker. It wasn’t going to be easy, and neither of them had any inkling on how things might work. Castiel was pleasant enough around Dean but it was obvious he wasn’t going to forget the fact that this wasn’t the Dean Winchester HE knew and, therefore, their interactions were awkward and difficult. Jack flatly refused to speak to Dean and stopped saying much to Sam. The other hunters came and went, and they didn’t intermingle much at all. Only Mary remained unchanged, she spoke to Dean with an innate tenderness that was deeply ingrained in her when it came to _her boys_. As for Sam, he was happy or as close to happy as a Winchester could get. He found he was sleeping better and he was putting on weight and in a strange way he was getting to know Dean all over again, and their relationship was all the better for it. 

They went on small hunts together, and spent nights in motel rooms booking one King instead of two Queens. Sam couldn’t recall the last time he had so much regular sex and he was in a state of almost constant bliss. When they were in the bunker they were more careful and never, ever slept together. On those occasions Sam missed Dean, not so much the sex, but the out-of-character night snuggling, and he would wake up feeling cold and bereft sub-consciously missing the solid warm body next to him.

There were differences between _this_ Dean and the Dean Sam had lost. This Dean was much more open with his emotions and incredibly tender. He was more tactile and never missed a chance to touch Sam, a squeeze of his bicep here, or a gentle hug there. That said he was still sarcastic, still goaded Sam until he rose to the bait. This Dean still loved bacon and pie, and wasn’t often seen without a bottle of Bud in his hand. They laughed together a lot, but Sam was certain that it was because they were much more relaxed. Hunting had become a lot easier and a lot less dangerous since Michael had been taken off the board and they were able to have a considerable amount of downtime, something Sam wasn’t used to having at all.

****

He guessed he was content and settled too. However there was still a certain awkwardness about the situation. Cas and, especially, Jack had never really accepted ‘this’ Dean and life in the bunker wasn’t as comfortable as Sam would have liked. They still couldn’t be open about their relationship, and would never really be able to explain it to anyone. When they weren’t hunting it was almost as if they were still the _Sam and Dean_ that they had always been. The other thing went deeper, and it was something he hadn’t admitted even to himself; he often felt guilty about sleeping with his _brother_. This wasn’t HIS Dean but it was still Dean, and it made him think too deeply sometimes and he wished that he could get over it but he knew that he couldn’t – at least not while they were here together in this familiar environment. He might have salted and burned Dean but the spirit of his brother hung over the bunker like a cloud, and he wished that he could start somewhere new, somewhere without a shared history.

****

“Sammy.” Dean was shaking him awake frantically and he was conscious almost immediately responding his panic. 

“What is it? Has something happened?”

Dean shook his head and all but pulled him out of bed, Sam followed quietly, bare feet padding on the cold floor of the bunker. He wasn’t sure what time it was but he was certain it was pretty early as even Cas didn’t appear to be around. When they entered the study Sam came to a complete halt and he stared at the thing in front of him and then back at Dean, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest.

There was a portal. The bright sliver of light flickering in the darkness of the unlit room. Sam’s mouth was dry, and he attempted to speak, tongue stuck to his throat.

“When did it appear?”

“Wasn’t there when I came to bed,” Dean was whispering, his face glowing orange in the dancing light. “But when I woke up and wanted coffee . . . ,” he trailed off. “It’s just like the one that appeared in my universe . . . the one t-that Sam . . . ,” his voice broke and he shook his head. “It may be wrong, but I just want to go into it. I want to see where it leads me.”

“That’s fucking stupid.” Sam grabbed his arm and pulled him in, wrapping his own arms around that solid body. “I-I don’t want to lose you like that.”

“I know, but I don’t belong here in this world and maybe this is a sign.”

“A sign? Fuck, Dean! We talked about this.”

“It’s not right me being here, and you know it. Your friends don’t even want to talk to me, and it’s as awkward as hell. I want to be with you all the time and I can’t, and maybe I should just go.”

Sam shook his head and held Dean impossibly closer. He stared at the portal and felt his stomach clench with a strange and dangerous excitement.

“No, if you want to go, then I’m going with you.”

“What?”

“There’s nothing for me in this world either; my brother’s dead and the thing that killed him is dead too. There’s enough hunters here to do the job. Cas has Jack and my mom has Bobby, I-I just want you.” He felt tears sting his lashes and he swallowed them down. “I’ve lost you once, and I don’t intend to do it again.”

“But . . . .” Dean was staring at him as if he had never seen him before.

“If you are willing to risk it, then so am I. I guess I asked for a new beginning, and here it is.”

“We could end up anywhere - even back in that bad place.”

“I’ll go anywhere. I’ll take anywhere as long as I’m with you. I love you.” And there it was out in the open and Sam could feel the relief of saying it. He loved Dean, had always loved Dean and he would continue to love Dean until Hell froze over, or the world came to an end.

“I love you too, but not as a replacement for my Sam. You were never that. You’re right, we both need a new beginning.”

Sam smiled then and made his decision without another thought. The portal could close at any time and it was now or fucking never.

“Let’s do this thing.”

****

He didn’t pack much, just a few clothes, photos of his mom, his dad and Dean. He took the memory box he’d so carefully constructed and left it in the study with a note for CAS. He wasn’t sure the angel would understand, but he was certain that he would take care of Jack and his mom and that he would keep the Winchester legacy alive. Finally he thrust his dad’s journal into his backpack. It might come in useful and he was sure he would have some very interesting additions.

He met Dean in the study where the light was still burning bright, and the portal still flickering. They both stared at it for a long time and then Dean reached for his hand. 

“Are you ready?”

Sam nodded and he squeezed the hand in his, and did what he had done for most of his life, closed his eyes, held his breath and followed Dean into the unknown.

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=iykj7r) End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my fantastic Artist [aggiedoll](https://aggiedoll.livejournal.com) who is totally awesome and has worked so damn hard, and given me so much!! Please go to give her kudos [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19212061) once her post is open. And a big thanks to the BB mods, who are great!!


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